Love, Hate, & Roses
by Suicidal Maniac
Summary: Hermione is going through image problems, and almost ends it all but a rose is on her bed. More roses come every day, who is sending them and why? CHAPTER ONE UP!


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Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, they're all J. K. Rowling's. Someday though, I shall rip them from her cold, dead fingers. o.o Until then, they're her's, FOR NOW! Mwhahahahahaha.

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Summary of Chapter: It just kind of fills you in on the characters so far. Hermione's problem is revealed and other stuff like that. Really boring and short but don't worry, they'll get longer. Oh, and in this chapter Herm tries to kill herself. ^^ Also, there are hints as to who likes her, betcha can't guess who.

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The Real Hermione

Hermione awoke in the bed in her dorm, sweating with terror. The dreams had come again, every night they seemed more real. Though they couldn't be real, Harry would never do that. The sudden eruption of blankets woke Lavender, who was in the bed next to frightened Hermione. "Herm, Herm! Are you alright?" Ever large-hearted Lavender spoke groggily to her friend.

"Wha? Oh, yeah. Heh. Just a dream I suppose. We better get back to sleep, big day tomorrow." Hermione spoke in her usual tone. Nothing big was happening, Lavender knew it too, but everyday at school was a big day to the normal Hermione; that's who she wanted to be, the normal Hermione.

The next morning everyone let Hermione sleep in a little, to her dismay. She knew they were worried about her, she had been acting curious, but causing her to miss daylight was unacceptable. In a flash she was out of the covers, she made her bed of course, and was dressed. Standing in front of the mirror, she sighed in annoyance. Her hair was never the way she wanted. It took her just a few minutes to brush, it would be ugly anyways she supposed.

Harry and Ron were waiting for her in the common room. Seeing Harry made her almost leap with terror, though she knocked it down to just a nervous blink; neither noticed it. "Hey, Hermione." Ron greeted the near-shaking girl in the usual fashion, getting just a nod in return.

"You ok, 'Mione?" Harry looked worried as he asked. Seemed like everyone had a different name to call her, only acquaintances and Ron called her Hermione.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine, Harry." Though they were her best friends, talking about dreams was more a girl thing in Hermione's eyes. "We best be off to class, potions is it?" She began walking off, leaving Ron and Harry to look at each other in a puzzled manner. She always knows what class is first, never having to ask.

Potions went as it always did. Snape deducted more points from Gryffindor, but Hermione took no notice, something was off. She hadn't been called mudblood all morning, not even by Draco. Not that she was sad, mind you; just confused. 

This class didn't matter anymore, no class mattered. _Oh, who am I kidding?_ Hermione thought to herself, trying to be something she's not. _Classes are everything to me...everything..._ Lately the confused child was angered by the way people judged her. "Oh, look. There's Hermione Granger and she's upset. Must be something wrong in class. I'll go tell her how brilliant she is." That's the way Hermione saw it when people comforted her. It was never "you're a great person" or "you're so nice", it was always "you're so smart, you shouldn't let that bother you". This began to anger Hermione, she wanted to be more, even if it was to one person, she wanted to be more.

The rest of the day went as usual, except for the fact that Hermione wasn't paying attention. Some people noticed, but they overlooked it. Harry, of course, hardly saw anything wrong, he was too busy eyeing Cho. To him, she was an angel; Hermione was just a friend. Our little heroine didn't notice though, to her Harry was just a friend too. Ron noticed right off, but didn't want to talk to Hermione about it, talking to her about that stuff was just weird.

Hermione wasn't paying attention because she was thinking, thinking of her life and its meaning; which was nothing. Her life made no difference in the outcome of the future. Harry made a difference, Voldemort made a difference, her life was pointless. To most, she was just a mudblood. A simple, little mudblood that everyone hated. That was when she decided it, all she needed was the tool.

That night at dinner in the dining hall she wasn't herself, she hadn't been herself the whole day so no one minded. She sat to Ron's left with Seamus on her right. The three of the boys, Harry was across the table, spent all of dinner talking of girls, believe it or not, and other things hormonal boys would talk of, none of it included Hermione. Seamus talked on and on about Lavender, Harry chitchatted all about Cho and her greatness, and Ron said he didn't like anyone, but his red face said more.

Since they were busy talking, no one noticed the knife Hermione hid in her bag, well, no one at her table that is. She left quickly after she finished eating and ran up to her room. Luckily all the girls in her room were going to be in the dining all for quite some time, cetching up with each other after the summer. But in her search for witnesses, she missed something on her bed. 


End file.
